The financial accounting took several weeks.
Evelyn coordinated requests for booking records, payout statements and relevant business documents.
Richard retained his own attorney.
That was appropriate.
I didn't expect him to accept my account without an opportunity to provide his.
But I also wasn't going to let confident speeches replace evidence.
The records eventually showed that Hale Lakeside Retreats had received substantial payments associated with stays at my property.
Some money had been used for cleaning and basic supplies.
There were platform fees and other business expenses.
But much of the revenue had gone into accounts controlled by Richard's business.
No comprehensive accounting had been provided to me.
No management contract authorized him to collect it.
And the maintenance bills I had personally paid had continued arriving in my mailbox.
Evelyn advised me about possible claims and helped negotiate a documented resolution.
The discussions were difficult.
Richard initially insisted that he had improved the property's value by marketing it.
When I heard that argument, I thought of the enormous invoices I'd paid for the dock and retaining wall.
He had benefited from something I'd maintained.
He hadn't built it.
Eventually, the parties agreed to a financial accounting and repayment arrangement addressing the unauthorized rental proceeds and verified expenses.
The listing was removed.
Future bookings were canceled or otherwise resolved through the booking platform, with affected guests receiving the appropriate notifications and remedies.
Any further questions concerning taxes, insurance or regulatory compliance were addressed separately with qualified advisers.
It wasn't an instant victory.
It was paperwork.
Statements.
Meetings.
Deadlines.
And repeated reminders that the person who made the money didn't automatically have a right to keep it.
Meanwhile, Alan Mercer called.
He had heard that my showing had been interrupted.
“I hope you're all right,” he said.
I explained that I was dealing with an unauthorized rental situation.
He listened carefully.
Then he asked whether I still intended to sell.
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
“Then I'd like to see the house when it's ready.”
I felt a wave of relief.
“You haven't changed your mind?”
“Not yet.”
He chuckled softly.
“Diane, I'm a retired physician. I've spent enough years dealing with complicated people. I know a good property when I see one.”
I laughed despite myself.
The following Saturday, Janet and I met him at the lake house.
This time, the driveway was empty.
There were no unfamiliar cars.
No suitcases at the stairs.
No wineglasses on the tables.
The inspector had completed the requested review, and I'd arranged for necessary minor repairs and cleaning before the showing.
The house looked beautiful.
Sunlight moved across the hardwood floors.
The tall windows framed the lake.
Outside, the pines swayed gently in the breeze.
Alan walked through the rooms slowly.
He admired the stone fireplace.
Asked about the dock.
And spent several minutes standing on the deck.
“It's a remarkable place,” he said.
I smiled sadly.
“It has been very good to us.”
He turned toward me.
“Is it difficult to sell?”
I looked toward the water.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“I understand.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then I told him about Michael.
How we'd bought the place when Madison was little.
How he'd insisted on building a bird feeder outside the kitchen window.
How he'd fallen asleep in the reading chair during every thunderstorm.
Alan smiled.
“My wife would have liked him.”
“I'm sure he would have liked her too.”
Alan looked out at the lake.
“My wife passed away three years ago. We always talked about finding somewhere like this.”
I felt my throat tighten.
“I'm sorry.”
“Thank you.”
He took a slow breath.
“I can't bring her here now. But I can bring our grandchildren.”
I looked at him.
And suddenly I could imagine another family making memories in the house.
Children running down the stairs.
Someone cooking breakfast.
Grandparents watching storms roll across the water.
It didn't erase what Michael and I had shared.
It meant the house could continue being loved.
Alan eventually submitted an offer through Janet.
It was serious, appropriately documented and subject to the usual inspections and contractual conditions.
I reviewed it with my broker and attorney.
Then I accepted.
When Madison learned the news, she cried.
But this time, she didn't ask me to change my mind.
Instead, she said, “Mom, can we go there once more before closing?”
I considered it.
“Yes.”
She swallowed.
“Just us?”
I looked toward Michael's photograph.
“Yes,” I said.
“Just us.”
